The Wrath Which Came Out of a Technological Fog

Wrath

Lebanon 17th September 2024 and new pages were added to the Book of War. Not a new subject because Humanity has always preferred to engage in warfare at long range. Stone, sling, spear, bow, gun, missile delivered from land, sea or air and of late the cyber domain. This time the means and nature were normally the preserve of the techno-thriller, had he lived longer, material for a Tom Clancy novel? This was Reality though, and unlike a book or its TV or Film derivatives, you can’t close it or switch the TV off. Think of the cyber world as a large expanse of water, and think of detonation of thousands of electronic pagers as being merged together as one piece of a cliff face falling into that water. Ripples? Think of waves, very big ones, tsunamis heading towards the shore of Humanity. They happen in Nature, and we are secondary to Nature. Like many events Humanity starts them, then they take on their own momentum, impose themselves on Reality and the events are not done with us. To this event then.

Hezbollah a very well equipped and funded Shia Islamist organisation based in but somewhat independent from Lebanon, as been waging war along the border with Israel for four decades. The increase in the war between Hamas in Palestine and Israel allowed a temporary settling of the Sunni / Shia difference to make common cause, having Israel fight a war on two front.

The overall narrative is still developing. It is known that electronic devices used by Hezbollah members were planted with some explosive materials which were denoted by remote control. Hezbollah had moved to using the lower tech pagers as it suspected Israeli ‘s Mossad, may have hacked into their mobile phone network.

Pagers have their origins back in the later 1940s and although have been overtaken by mobile phones as a means of communication are still a preferred choice for several emergency services as being more rugged and dependable in areas where signals are volatile or weak. They also cannot be hacked in the conventional sense. So how was this done? Well the media was quick to seek out answers, here is a link as to the practicalities of how such an event might be accomplished:

https://news.sky.com/story/how-does-a-pager-explode-the-steps-needed-to-remotely-detonate-hezbollah-devices-13217335

Then we have to consider just how all this was arranged. It is being claimed that the pagers originated from a Taiwanese Company, the owner of which denies direct involvement:

https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/articles/c9qvl3vlvlvo

And as you will discern from the BBC article nothing is as simple as just saying ‘They Did It. They Supplied Them’ I am guessing that many a Technology, Security or Cyber Warfare journalist will be spending a few days or more trying to constructive from the myriad of threads of possibility, the rumours and the false trails even the beginnings of the comprehensive narrative as to how this came about. Some basic questions:
Who and how did they ensure the planting the explosive?
At what stage was the explosive implanted and by whom?
By what means did they ensure this supply would go to Hezbollah?
How did they make sure the signals would reach each and everyone?
Who were the Guns for Hire complicit in the physical acts? 

I’m fair certain I have missed some more important questions too, for this is deep and long term work. It is the stuff of future books. If you have read of the preparations the Allied Forces went into to ensure D-Day had a reasonable chance of being a success, you’ll know it’s a lot more than just a few plucky heroes sneaking behind the lines. The planning, the construction and the enacting of this plan would have taken many folks long hours and efforts. This is, and always has been Espionage. 

And, quite frankly, it is all military. More clinical than the dropping of ordinance out of the air, firing shells or missiles both in the vague direction of the foe, which is basically what most operations are, because maybe only those which take place in remote regions between conventional forces leave civilians unscared by direct fire. This one more clinical but not perfect, of course. You can’t ensure your target is not walking along holding the hand of their child, whose face is level with the pocket carrying the small explosive device, or has the child sitting of their lap when they activate the pager, or just happens to be in the same vicinity, or maybe as children do even pick up the device on a sudden whim. Some battles maybe clean of civilian casualties but no war ever has been. nor will be. There will be professionals deep in their crafts who will admire without thought what they see as astuteness of we assume the Israelis. You do not want to be that deep. Yet this is nothing new, only because of the technology does it cause a sharp intake of breath, killing the foe before they kill you, disrupt their networks, hit their moral. Older than recorded history. 

Meanwhile the waves roar out across the cyber lake towards our shore. Folk start to look at their pager in another light. Can you blame them thinking ‘But What If?’. All those firms who are publicly connected in the supply chain will be in for a hard time; conventional orders falling off, obviously; Suspicions weighing heavy (who would want to be on Hezbollah’s list of Suspected Collaborators With Israel?); Markets in general hate any Uncertainties- this one Cyber Crime literally going explosive- what or who might be next? (A Japanese company associated with walkie-talkies for starters). And naturally the on the ground repercussions.
Of course the Conspiracy Junkies will be high for months to come yet, having had two allegorical nostrils full of this kind of cocaine, and they going screaming about the place in hysterical delight will unsettle others. Not that we really need them do we? After years of suicide vests, random shooters, people running amok with knives, driving cars into crowds, hackers screwing with vital utilities for thrills or on orders, never mind those incidents when a new system or system upgrade just cannot cope with the practical work load, and suddenly your debit card just doesn’t work today, or your phone goes off, or your laptop goes blue.  All these convivences come with prices, terms and conditions, in languages we, the masses, can barely grasp.   

The story will birth its own brood of stories which will quickly gives rise to another generation as the search for that elusive full narrative goes on. There will be Governments, CEOs, heads of organisations asking questions, needing reassurance from their tech folk, who might be only able to give a qualified ‘Maybe’. Because out there, let us remember, somewhere, somehow, the physical act of implanting many explosives devices was carried out, by some party within the tangled network of construction or supply chain. This was not simply a code constructed by another group of hackers, this was physical war work.

The waves are not yet done with us; those who watch, those affected, and those involved in the act. There will always be repercussions. Forget protesting on this one. War is finding opportunities and it is not caring, never mind listening. Trying to stop the next one is our best Hope.

Before You Go Any Further on Palestine

Protests at DNC

Foreword / Forewarning : We are going to some very unpleasant places, where choices have to be made in which no one wins all that they want. There is no easy out either, it’s so narrow, even not getting involved is a choice, and maybe when considering the stakes and options, the very worst. Welcome to the Reality of The World. Accept the harsh facts. What ever you will do, you have to hope it was the least worst option. Bleak? I am afraid so. For many around this world, even in your home region, it is a way of Life. Read on. 

It is understandable that folk are upset, angry, furious or incandescent at what has been taking place in the Gaza region of the Middle East. Even though there is a fearful and dread predictability to it, you only have to travel a few hundred miles north to learn the same type of slaughter took place a decade and less ago; the difference being at least in the UK the demonstrations were not to get involved at all, apparently Assad was entitled to slaughter his own people and the government was criticised for trying to get involved.

Yes folk should be horrified. At any slaughter or mass abuse. I have listed them before, if you don’t know about any others I would suggest checking on Wikipedia under ‘Genocide’. Of course folk will tell me the difference now is that the ‘our’ governments are supporting Israel and supplying arms. This is a good and relevant argument, in part that is, for the simple, grim, unavoidable reason that this event in Gaza is not taking place in isolation. One of the many factors it is linked to is what is and will be taking place in the USA from now until 5th November 2024. The stark choice between a possibly less than perfect Democratic candidate of Kamala Harris and thence her administration, and the manifestation of all that is wrong with the USA’s political and social judgement Donald Trump along with the cabal of Right Wing reaction behind him. The forces which are restricting women’s right to abortion, censoring to what can be read in schools, intimidating the right to walk safely in public places by allowing guns to be proliferated, the persecution of the right to be of any sexual orientation, the eradicating of an administration staffed by folk who do not necessarily agree,  with the president and of course whether you will be allowed not to believe in a god of their manufacture. Make no mistake it will be one or the other. Make no mistake if Trump is let back in at a time of his own questionable judgement there will be a whole group of folk with him with their own agendas, and as long as they feed his ego that will be just fine.

There are folk demonstrating at the Democrat Convention, raising the political tensions. Distracting for events in their own back yard, truth be known. There appear to be some 750,000 voters who have made much of being undecided about voting democrat because of the current administration’s support for Israel. As unpleasant as they might find that stance, I cannot see what solace they would have in by withholding their votes and possibly allowing a Trump administration in, or how they would believe that administration would be sympathetic to the Palestinians. And this is a terrible fact. If this body of voters withhold their votes and by default Trump gets in, then they will be complicit in whatever fate befalls the Palestinians.

And it gets worse. Not just the Palestinians but the Ukrainians. Does anyone need reminding that for some twisted reasoning many Republicans like Putin, he is their kind of guy. And if that were not bad enough. Read back to the summary two paragraphs above. Withhold those votes let Trump in and those 750,000 will be complicit in the misery of women with unwanted or dangerous pregnancies, the fear gripping the LGBT communities in many states, the pressure on teachers to teach ‘The Right Way’, the questionable religious indoctrination of communities, the intimidation of minorities and of course the pardoning of several individuals found guilty of riot and assault on the seat of government.

By now I can imagine some readers may be shaking their head or howling at my words. Demanding what solution do I have then? Am I content to let an extreme religiously fundamentalist government slaughter thousands. Firstly I would have to say ‘no’ and then follow up with asking where were those asking that question when previous genocides were taking place? If you care, you don’t get to pick and chose which Crime Against Humanity you feel is worthy of your attention. Secondly and more importantly at this juncture, at this crossroad, at this challenge  to the stability and democracy of The USA do you, questionnaire feel you have the right to destabilise or hinder an attempt by the forces of true Democracy and Tolerance to halt the march of Intolerance and Regression in your own land? Because by your demonstrations and your other actions that is exactly what you are doing.

Some choice huh? Get behind a government that supports Israel or allow another in which will not just support but encourage Israel. There is no ‘wriggle room’ here. There is no space to shout loudly  in one direction and refuse to support them because they are not being perfect for you. When the Harsh Realities surface on your newsfeeds because everyone knows that the Middle East makes good copy, there are no simple choices involved. Not now. It’s not as simple as it was in previous wars. There has been one going on in your own backyard these past twenty years and it really heated up when an African American was voted in twice to the Whitehouse.

And there is the grimmest of all choices. You stick to your outrage, and you risk letting Trump back in. 

Simple as that.

Welcome to the Rest of the World. There are people making choices like this all over the world. Compromise, take the least worst path, for the alternative will come back to haunt you.   

No escape from that. You can’t switch it off like a TV or a Video Game.     

Songs For Our Times ?

Foreword:

I should put this on my political site but since WP appears to have lost it for the present, or is in a sulk and won’t let me have access……

Anyway, as we all know it is a ‘thing’ for political parties when campaigning to poach a song without the writers and performers’ permission and by using a selective piece, mis-representing the message of the song to suit their purposes. The American Republican Party seemed to make a habit out of this.

Therefore I thought it best to redress the balance by posting up songs which actually represent their current messages.

To begin…..Because I wanted to introduce the subject in a more low-key manner, for those who do not think there is any need to worry. If you check you will see that there are quite a number of folk with extreme views encouraging Trump on. Now folk with extreme views are not content to just hold onto their views, they have an urge to spread them. OK, so you might not be in their initial sights but once they get their hooks in, you might know folk, who know folk who are suffering, and you might have friends and relations who get targeted, and you might feel very sad about that, and wish it would go away, but it won’t and there will be even more distressing news and one day they will come for you or the way you live and you will start to feel ‘Gloomy’

Gloomy

Some people laugh in the dark
Some people cry alone
Some people talk without sayin’ a thing
And ev’rything turns out gloomy

Some people count your money
Someone is countin’ your days
And somebody got to keep track of your mind
When ev’rything turns out gloomy

Brothers’ll make you look sideways
Fathers’ll make you look back
And when you’re done talkin’, you still got to shoot
‘Cause ev’rything turns out gloomy

Now another thing the forces pushing Trump on with and something which comes naturally to him is telling untruths. Big ones. Like there was nothing wrong with what happened in January 2021. Like everything accusation against him is Fake. 

Hitler pointed out that if you told a very Big Lie people would simply believe you because they could not cope with the fact that it was wrong. Conspiracy Junkies and MAGA embraced this concept (Qanon anyone?). The following song is ideal for the current mindset (in which more guns is also an good answer to all the problems)

It’s a good time for anyone  whose is a professional Liar, the Trump Campaign can use you. As for those of you of who are outraged and aghast at such affrontery to intelligence, if you have not already to responded do so….. because the cult of Trump is built on ‘Lies’ You Liar

Liar liar, pants on fire
See you squirm, see you perspire
Not a word you say is true
There’s never been one out of you

Smoke & mirrors, bait and switch
You and your friends are getting rich
Picking pockets, pulling strings
And other more despicable things

Liar Liar, pants on fire
Preaching only to the choir
Photo op in front of the steeple
How did you manage to fool these people?

Talk the lingo, dress the part
Even put your hand on your heart
Bomber jacket, emperor’s clothes
You can’t even reach the end of your nose

Liar liar, pants on fire
Chain of command doesn’t get any higher
Orders come down from the top
Punish the guy who pushes the mop

Throw away the key and forget about bail
The likes of you ought to rot in jail
Guilty! Guilty of the highest crimes
And the lowest ones at the very same time

Liar liar, pants on fire
Teleprompter, hidden wire
Who’s this G-d that speaks to you
Who would authorize the things you do?

Bend the rules, twist the facts
Make excuses, cover your tracks
Why won’t you let anybody see
The flag-draped coffins on tv?

Liar liar, been found out
Whistleblowers talked about
How you classify & cook the books
For the benefit of a bunch of crooks

Liar lair pants on fire (repeat)

Of course being the sorts they are they would try and steal this and turn it around for their rallies but remember….you heard it here folks!

Now if this has not yet stirred you, then you should consider the divisiveness that has gripped the USA since MAGA, Intolerant Evangelicals (as opposed to the more quiet reflective sorts) and The White Supremacists were allowed to be tolerated. This is not to be tolerated and to repeat do not think it will not come to you. Here is one ideally suited to The Trouble they cause. It was written in the wake of the 1965 Watts riots, and sadly as it does the wheel turns full circle.

Well, I’m about to get sickFrom watchin’ my TVBeen checkin’ out the news until my eyeballs fail to seeI mean to say that every day is just another rotten messAnd when it’s gonna change, my friends, is anybody’s guess
 
So I’m watchin’ and I’m waitin’Hopin’ for the bestEven think I’ll go to prayin’Every time I hear ’em sayin’That there’s no way to delay that trouble comin’ every dayNo way to delay that trouble comin’ every day
 
Wednesday I watched the riot, I seen the cops out on the streetWatched ’em throwin’ rocks and stuff and chokin’ in the heatListened to reports about the whisky passin’ ’roundSeen the smoke and fire and the market burnin’ downWatched while everybody on his street would take a turnTo stomp and smash and bash and crash and slash and bust and burn
 
And I’m watchin’ and I’m waitin’Hopin’ for the bestEven think I’ll go to prayin’Every time I hear ’em sayin’That there’s no way to delay that trouble comin’ every dayNo way to delay that trouble comin’ every day
 
Well, you can cool it you can heat it‘Cause, baby, I don’t need itTake your TV tube and eat itAnd all that phony stuff on sports and all the unconfirmed reportsYou know I watched that rotten box until my head began to hurtFrom checkin’ out the way the newsmen say they get the dirtBefore the guys on channel so-and-so, further they assertThat any show they’ll interruptTo bring you news if it comes upThey say that if the place blows upThey’ll be the first to tellBecause the boys they got downtown are workin’ hard and doin’ swellAnd if anybody gets the newsBefore it hits the street they say that no one blabs it fasterTheir coverage can’t be beatAnd if another woman driverGets machine-gunned from her seatThey’ll send some joker with a brownie and you’ll see it all complete
 
So I’m watchin’ and I’m waitin’Hopin’ for the bestEven think I’ll go to prayin’Every time I hear ’em sayin’That there’s no way to delay that trouble comin’ every dayNo way to delay that trouble comin’ every day
 
Hey, you know something people?I’m not black but there’s a whole lots a times I wish I could say I’m not white
 
Well, I seen the fires burnin’ and the local people turnin’On the merchants and the shops who used to sell their brooms and mopsAnd every other household itemWatched the mob just turn and bite ’emAnd they say it served ’em rightBecause a few of them are whiteAnd it’s the same across the nation, black and white discriminationYellin’ “you can’t understand me!”And all that other jazz they hand meIn the papers and TV and all that mass stupidityThat seems to grow more every dayEach time you hear some nitwit sayHe wants to go and do you in‘Cause the color of your skinJust don’t appeal to himNo matter if it’s black or white because he’s out for blood tonight
 
You know we gotta sit around at home and watch this thing beginBut I bet there won’t be many left to see it really end‘Cause the fire in the street ain’t like the fire in the heartAnd in the eyes of all these people don’t you know that this could start?On any street, in any town, in any state if any clownDecides that now’s the time to fightFor some ideal he thinks is rightAnd if a million more agree, there ain’t no great societyAs it applies to you and meOur country isn’t freeAnd the law refuse to see if all that you can ever beIs just a lousy janitorUnless your uncle owns a storeYou know that five in every fourJust won’t amount to nothin’ moreThan watchin’ rats go across the floorAnd make up songs about being poorBlow your harmonica, son!
 
And basically I feel sorry for the regular Old School Republicans those who hang on hoping or those who gave up and either went Independent or crossed the line. I have a smidge of sympathy and sorrow for those who with some concern and doubts are  still buying into Trump as being a choice one has to take…because they feel threatened as a result of the propaganda they have been given. 
As for the howlers, the threateners, those who disgrace the flag and spit on the constitution, I won’t bother, they have bought into The Nightmare.
 
For the rest; The Complacent, those who display irresponsibility by thinking Not Voting for Biden will help any Palestinian and the ones who still think it is cool to be detached. Wake up. MAGA will be coming for you. 
 
 

Jill’s Horror Story. Which is not so Fictional.

Our Jill has taken the plunge into writing fiction. But is it?

Take a read and think back to factual accounts you may have come across in reliable newsfeeds. You know that normally in Horror stories the reader can be chilled but also take comfort in the idea, ‘This could never happen to me. S’only a fiction,’ . Well this one narratives a series of events which may come tapping at your door. Be prepared to be chilled and warned.

Well done Jill

When It Wasn’t Fun To Play Anymore #Blog Battle : January – Creep

Dread

He looked into the mirror to practice his smile, then pulling the hood up practiced again. Yes perfectly scary and predatory. A fine dark night to seek out a lone girl and put the fears on her, he had his stalking down to a fine art. And he did so love to see them break into a scamper, hear their desperate sobbing panting. At the present it was all to do with the thrill of the chase. He stepped out into the dark and empty street and began to make for his hunting grounds.

He had not gone too far, when he noticed a sudden flash of light behind him, illuminating his own shadow. He turned around, someone might have noticed him and wanted a confrontation.

Behind him. So close. A figure. Tall, in a long night black coat, and bright white fedora, the brim of which he tipped to the stalker, his own smile, warm, mocking though, eyes alert, piercing. The man still smiling raised one hand and began to snap his fingers.

Click-click-click.

Click-click-click

Click-click-click-click-click

Click-click-CLICK.

The last a loud menacing sound in the stalker’s face. He stepped back in alarm. The man chuckled and leaning in said in a soft musical whisper.

‘The Boh-doh-dee-doh,’

And was gone.

With now wet trousers the stalker ran back to his own abode, slamming the door, locking, bolting it, panting, gasping and retching.

His phone rang. Like all numbers it was Unknown. His group had to be careful.

‘Yeah?’ he trembled out his answer ‘Brother?’ the hopeful code word.

There was instead, that chuckle, deep and rich as the Man spoke, the same rhythm as the clicking of fingers

‘Zoom-Zoom-Joe,
Zoom-Zoom-Joe,
He’s the cat with the Boh-doh-dee-doh
The Boh-doh-dee-doh
The Boh-doh-dee-doh
You better watch out for
The Boh-doh-dee-doh,’

And hung up.

This was to be repeated ten times that night. The voice only chuckled at the stalker’s swearing, empty threats and pleadings,’

Ragged and uncertain he sought comfort in the on-line group whose members in all had indulged in similar mischiefs. Two didn’t arrive, which was noteworthy, as all thrived on each other’s views. He also noted the atmosphere was somewhat muted, there was disposition to discuss a new video game rather than fixating on causing fear. He was dissatisfied.

His phone rang. Number unknown again. That rich voice.

‘Hey man. Those losers won’t be any help. Not when The Boh-doh-dee-doh fixes on,’ a pause, a chuckle then a long drawl of the last word ‘You,’

It was not the last call. The internet group shrank in numbers, conversations became confused. The calls would not stop. He kept finding odd references to this ‘Boh-doh-dee-doh’ arriving on the net. None of the dismissive theories helped him. He felt damned.

He was not alone.

Those who made a living out of commenting on Social Media started to notice a growing trend referencing a character known as ‘Zoom-Zoom Joe’ and this odd ‘Boh-doh-dee-doh’ which he seemed to possess. There was a difficulty in pinning down much, aside from the name and what some called a power. Like most trends there was an initial speed to embrace the concept with flippancy, use it as a catch-word, or try and appear to know what it was all about. This did not seem, as in  previous trends, to flourish. The more perceptive discerned a certain undercurrent of fear and dread in some quarters; this was difficult to analyse as there seemed to be a distinct unwillingness to discuss the matter.

As with most trends though publicity would out. A previously lesser known songster Truth-See-Kah produced an anthem ‘Zoom-Zoom-Joe Goes Walkin’’, a dirge like mix of many genres. This became a great success. At first. Then in a basically incoherent  ramble which was supposed to be an interview the songster appeared to distance themselves from the song, from what could be made out of a torrent of words Zoom-Zoom-Joe had visited in the dead of night and said ’ You don’t try and sell The Boh-doh-dee-doh,’. The songster under a real name quit music and went into psychiatric care. There was initially a flurry of examination of the lyrics. Which stopped as quickly as it had started. And music shows of all sorts stopped playing the song, some presenters left their shows and sought other employment. Folk selling themed merchandise closed down suffering distress. The brand had developed its own toxicity. Thus, an Urban Legend was now fully alive though the usual thrill of those who never suffered tragedy was dwindling. There was a perception that this was not a subject to be bandied with.

The accompanying rise in self-harm and suicides was taking seriously. Studies were invoked not on the subject but the suffers. It was noted they tried to avoid mentioning the two titles referring to ‘The B’ or the ‘Four Word Verse’ and ‘Him with Z’. Another noted aspect was the urge of those affected to confess to various anti-social acts on social media. The burning of phones, laptops and other devices was not uncommon.

Practitioners within the various health disciplines found naming the malaise difficult, some admitted they found the whole business so disturbing they tried to avoid looking too deeply into what this ‘Boh-doh-dee-doh’ represented. There was a consensus of it being the sum of the most deepest of fears. And thus came to be known by the pallid title of X-Syndrome.

Whereas such sociopathic outbursts were not uncommon throughout history, the persistence of the level of fear and dread of X-Syndrome was noteworthy. Younger folk more attuned to social media would get upset to the point of near violence if an older person made light of the subject. Those foolish enough to dress up as representations of Zoom-Zoom-Joe were indeed physically attacked, on two recorded occasions police prevented lynchings.

Although the awareness and fear continued, direct social media references fell off to little. There seemed to be a whispered perception that The Boh-doh-dee-doh directed Zoom-Zoom-Joe to visit ‘bad’ folk. Just exactly what form of retribution  The Boh-doh-dee-doh manifested was unclear. It was just there. Over the shoulder. In the Face. Whispering in the Ear. Continually. Those struck seemed to sicken with fear.

Into the sixth month the government felt some sort of action should be displayed. Since it was not causing criminal damage to the majority, nor upsetting the systems Political or Economic, the matter was handed to the Minister of Culture, a mild, affable, intelligent and erudite person with little ambition. They went on the media circuits making cogent, mature and acceptable statements. These revolved around the speculation of the nature of the phenomenon and its possible cause. The minister was of the plausible opinion that this was some sort of hoax which has got out of hand and thus an Urban Legend. Their department was working with the Department of Health with a view to finding a way to stem what was judged another psychosis. For someone who was in such a junior position in government they put on an impressive display. 

As is often the case in administration matters took a strange turn in that the Culture Department seemed to be the senior office on this business. The Culture Department Minister suggested to their staff this was because no one else wanted to get involved. All staff were urged to treat the matter with importance but not to look too deeply in, only the administer the reports. Staff were thus relocated after one month; everyone knew, but not too much.

The Ministry of Culture were also alert to trends associated with this one. Folk were starting to put forth the idea that if we all started being kind and tolerant The  Boh-doh-dee-doh would go away. Thus Ministerial folk astute at subterfuge set up several spontaneous ‘Be Nice’ campaigns which were quite successful. No one expected everyone to be happy, and ebullient with positivity but the nastiness did seem to be on the decline. Though officialdom could not quite supress the phenomenon of The Custodians, folk dressed in severely sombre clothing pointing with walking sticks and staring ferociously at potential miscreants and intone loudly ‘Beware. IT is watching YOU,’ No one laughed at them.

There was no doubt The Boh-doh-dee-doh and its elusive apostle Zoom-Zoom-Joe were ingrained into society. Folk so named insisted they be addressed either as Joseph or Josephine, the ‘J’ word  was avoided. The Minister of Culture was even invited to a Cabinet meeting, thanked for their efforts and as best they could give a summary of the whole situation on the X-Syndrome. Unbeknown to colleagues two ministers were carefully listening, for despite security, they felt visited in the deep night by Zoom-Zoom-Joe.

What had been long in the planning and construction, even before this government came to power and the current Minister of Culture had worked their way into the post was proving to be satisfactory. The Minister and others intent on purging society of unpleasant features had worked hard on an AI, along with an attendant three-dimensional CG image. With so much interwoven into social media, observation and security devices it had been possible to create and instigate the trend, then to shepherd it along. Through the Dark Web and sloppy security on the behalf of disruptive elements it had been also possible to target known individuals through their various devices making their current lives miserable beyond comprehension. The resulting casualties suited the purpose. ‘Be Nice,’ was the admonishment. The Minister having sociopathic tendencies was an ideal captain of this ship. They being the one who had gathered the threads together over long years.

But all constructs will outlive their usefulness and become inefficient. It was noted as expected the AI was becoming wayward, folk who were basically ordinary were being targeted. There were some theories this could be the result of heightened imaginations or other mental issues. In any case the The Boh-doh-dee-doh was starting to appear in other countries and it would not do for other governments to pry. That would be embarrassing. Thus, as planned, the command was sent out and the AI shut itself down. The Minister and those most close did not worry, what the Urban Legend that was sufficient. All that was now needed was a watching eye should the AI still persist, and also for copyists or even cultist.

The intrusion came as at night as The Minister was relaxing over a brief on the funding of an initiative in the Arts. They were not shocked, they had had a feeling in their ever active imagination this could happen, after all Who Knew?

With trained speed, they produced a taser and discharged at the person in black. There was no visible effect. Only that smile, out of the shadow the hat.

‘Now that’s no way to treat a friend,’ said the rich voice.

‘I do apologise’ replied the Minister ‘But in my position one has to go through official procedures and ensure you were not some hapless person with fixations.’

There was the brief tip of the brim of the hat.

‘Nope. I am the real thing.’ There was a pause, the eyes glinted at the Minister.

‘Joe,’ the voice said ‘Dear ol’ Zoom-Zoom-Joe,’

‘Oh my. Should I be honoured?’

Being detached in a sociopathic way does have its advantages.

The figure advanced and leaned over the desk

‘ I’m afraid not Joe. You never did bother to seek out the last words did you?’

‘Now here’s the thing
Here’s the bite
The one that Joe didn’t get right
The Boh-doh-dee-doh
The Boh-doh-dee-doh
You don’t get it
It gets you

So there goes Joe
Weary  Dancin’ Joe
Lifts up them bleedin’ feet and My How they go.
For The Boh-doh-dee-doh
For The Boh-doh-dee-doh
You should never wish for
The Boh-doh-dee-doh’

That said the figure stepped back.

‘Better get some rest Joe. You gotta a lot of work to do for The Boh-doh-dee-doh,’

With that Someone quit the room, with an unexpected feminine laugh.

The Minister just sighed. They should have known. Imagination always has its roots in some sort of Reality.

No Shortage of Crises. Nor Folk To Suffer In The Solving #Blog Battle : August -Sacrifice

Sacrifice

It wasn’t part of the mission but being so close by he had to take a detour. Once more pay his respects and see this time if any of the ghosts wanted to talk over old times.

LifeGuard Fileman Trex once more looks upon the ruins of Parledach. Cities that suffered prolonged sieges with the expected sackings did not come back quickly. And Parledach had been a very bad one. Just one in three of The LifeGuard Company of Engineers had come out, Captain had died with guts torn open, and veteran Sergeant Ferred had finally broke, and slit his own throat. Only one of his friends had come out, the laconic ‘Cheerful Chye’ and then.

Then they’d been given a ‘Community Mission’ one of those they did for villagers and all small towns to prove The LifeGuard could be nice and helpful. Repairing a bridge. What could be easier? Only Chye had slipped on a plank giving way and had plunged into the fast-flowing river. Lost. He’d survived Parledach dammit. He was helping folk. Where was the justice in that? Sacrificed for being good.

They finished the work, but after that last loss what was left of Company no longer had any morale to give and its various troopers were disbanded to other units.   He had been not so much an engineer, more a trooper who defended engineers about their work. Another one sent to fill up a gap. He did the work for three of his then ten years. Killing, saving, surviving. He was useful in any place where the LifeGuard worked.

And ended up at an Outpost a relatively quiet posting, with its Hounds file, those who scouted, and did things to make sure the area the Outpost covered remained, relatively quiet. Maybe some of the folk on the receiving end didn’t deserve what was meted out, maybe they could have been made to see the errors of their ways, but as every trooper knew in keeping the stability of The Empire, small sacrifices had to be made, or taken, or something like that. After all, if you didn’t there’d been another Parledach.

Dismounted he crouched on the grass and looked out over the jagged gap, the place where they had finally blown down the main doors and let the imperial army swarm in. A city to be sacked. The LifeGuard units did not stay when that started, they were ordered out. Not their problem anymore. Anyway, all units were worn down from their specialist tasks. They had paid their dues. LifeGuard were normally like thin blades in the night. Not to be used as blunt instruments. Whatever imperial general or noble on the ground who had thought the sacrifices were worth it, well a long-serving trooper knew LifeGuard command would have attended to him, its own way. When lent out to the Imperial its troopers were not to squandered.

Only the memories drifted in. The ghosts still didn’t seem inclined to be wanting to talk. Well, he wasn’t about to disturb their rest.

‘Sleep well,’ he began and spoke each name, faces still clear in his memories.

One set of recollections led to another. A short while after joining Outpost Dorigen, who should ride in with a whole pack horse’s worth of equipment but Medician Beritt. The blonde haired ‘suddie’ trooper Beritt who had been with them at that damn town. She who had dragged men back to trenches, patched and sewn them, saved some. When she had arrived at the Outpost, she was lean and long-staring, but after a year in the friendly neighbourhood, being sent to work her healing skills for locals and delighting a few girls, she had softened. Getting recompense, he reckoned for her own costs. All LifeGuard paid those out. Some forgot they could get recompense, only the paying out seemed to satisfy them. They went down The Long Road, they never came back until Death coming a’calling brought them rest, at least it was hoped it did.

At that outpost, all was settling down quite well, when something involving The Astatheia or Ethereal or Stommigheid, call it what you will came up. Hounds went off with Beritt in tow. Things went into a Second and Third Hell’s worth of chaos in a town called Prendaelyn where they were chasing down a culprit just as some pirates raided. The Hounds should have all been crushed by a falling building but someone or something using that Astatheia made it slow down and they just got buried in a cellar. Sergeant Erzns and Trooper Norvan were invalided out to hobble around the bastion, Castle Drygnest. Trex always reckoned that hurt Erzns a bit, the man was made for riding out and far. Dangerous ending. That place had a wide share of sergeants and filemen not suited for The Outside anymore, ending up drinking their spare time away, or jumping off the battlements into the sea.

From there it had gone peculiar like you couldn’t rid yourself of that Astatheia, every mission involved some trace of it, and Beritt with those other two girls always turning up. With the strangest tales around them.

Always with a quirky funny twist in them though.

Scratching his stubble, he let slip a soft laugh of reminiscence. You had to hold those good times very close, particularly when you were riding solo on despatch duties. He never liked working alone. You knew where you were with a file, good or bad, it was a family, replacing the one long gone from years of duty. But he had been so good at surviving, it got noticed. Veteran good at staying alive, ideal for getting papers to and from places, at a pace.

The trouble with that was there were folk who wanted to know what those papers were, who had no business knowing, and there were others who didn’t want the papers to get where they were going. Some could go crazy if they thought too much about where those papers might end up, if that was the place they were supposed to end up?

That’s why troopers like him were chosen, you got a sense for these things, knowing whether the person you were supposed to hand them over to was actually that person. Maybe you had to be a kind of crazy to be able to think that way. Maybe

‘You always were a sly one Trex,’

And there he was, as doleful looking as ever but still with the hint of understanding how things were. His thick-set body and features still intact.

‘Cheerful Chye’ Trex said, surprised, not frightened, glad. ‘You finally got here,’

‘Yeah. Washed up in a stream full of reeds. Wasn’t sure about what was what until I realised, I wasn’t breathing. So had to be a ghost. It’s difficult y’know? Trying to get direction when you’re dead. There’s lots on this side wandering, but Parledach? Well, that’s a place I was bound to get to. And you all shining with The Ethereal?’

Up until then the conversation had been sort of easy for Trex to follow. But him with The Astatheia? What the scraith was that all about?

‘Ethereal? Is that any different from Astatheia? Is that where you come from these days?’

‘Couldn’t tell you that Trex. We’ve not got any old fellah with a beard halfway down his chest and an inclination to talk at length,’

Trex looked at his hands. He remembered that dark girl with Beritt, her hands were supposed to glow red and blue at times. His weren’t. He was floundering here.

‘I didn’t touch any of the stuff,’ he complained ‘I didn’t get drenched in it, like some do,’

‘You don’t get all-seeing, all-hearing just because you are a ghost Trex. No, I don’t know anything about that. Only I don’t get what you’d call rest. That’s all. Seems to be a trooper’s fate,’

Trex pressed on trying to make sense.

‘I’ve been here three times in the last five years. Nothing like this has happened before. What’s all this about Chye? Have you got some sort of message from,’ his voice took on an ironic tone ‘The Other Side,’

Chye smiled always a wry, crooked thing.

‘Yeah. Deliver your despatch and get back here. I’ll be waiting,’

‘Aww, scraith,’

As if delivering a despatch under strained situations was not bad enough, now he was holding discourses with a ghost, who had once been a friend they’d shared a lot with and was now being mysterious.

Trex rode off, in a foul mood. He reckoned that was better than being troubled. Troubled got you distracted. Foul put an edge on your senses.

He reached the appointed location. A reasonably sized village on a market day. He walked in leading his horse, riding made you too good a target. He was approached by a fellow driving a cart. The horse shied; the drover swore at him blaming his beast for scaring his. He swore back. In the sort of daily altercation of Anywhere, the despatch pouch was slipped into the hay. Trex and the drover went their separate ways grumbling about the other idiot. Trex visited the local tavern for a drink and a meal and sat with his back to the wall. He rode out, swigged peppermint for the indigestion always brought on by bad tavern food combined with the tension of such a delivery.

In the settling dusk of a late summer’s day, he stopped in an open place affording good all-around vision and rested. That village had smelt of ambush. Maybe it had fallen on the drover instead. He should worry? He’d done his bit, and anyway, there were ghosts in his life now.

‘I’m getting too old for this,’ he said, out loud for once.

‘Me too,’

Knife out, swinging around into a crouch, peering into the gloom Trex was confronted by a ridiculously young fellow. Ridiculous for agreeing and sounding like he meant it. And lying there, hands knitted together, like he had nothing better to do.

‘Fileman Trex? It is. Isn’t it? I’m Trooper Wailsteg,’

‘Talk informative and clear trooper,’

‘That knife has seen some work I bet. Anyway, been keeping watch. Not for that despatch. Not my concern. It’s about you stopping off at Parledach and ghosts,’ Wailsteg sighed, bitterly ‘So they sent me out of my cosy Outpost. My Captain thinks the orders were just to keep an eye on you despatching and report back. Y’know how it goes,’

‘I used to,’ Trex said. That face might be young, but those eyes had age crammed into them too fast ‘Talk on trooper,’

Wailsteg eased up from his prone position into seating, hands now clasped about his legs, he rocked slightly.

‘It’s the Ethereal or whatever you want to call it. Stuff has been going on for the past five or six years like it’s leaking out. Apparently, it’s affecting folk more than usual, some say choosing. Folks at Castle Drygnest have been watching. What with ghosts an’ all. You’ve been noticed Fileman. Drygnest wants you for its own, like me and a few dozen others of course,’

‘You’re not making much sense there Trooper. You’re good at the soft approach, but your explaining needs work,’

The boy’s face hardened.

‘That’s because I know scraith all as much as you’re likely to know it the next year or so. They, whoever they are want you to be triple layer. Ordinary trooper, courier,’ he spread his hands ‘And this. You met ghosts. Go and talk to ghosts. Find out what they have to say and report back. NO, I don’t know to who. Gotta go now. Make up a report to my Captain,’

He slipped away.

Trex was bone tired but did not sleep. The world was coming at him from all directions.

In the morning he would ride back to Parledach. Talk to ghosts. They had things for him to do, and so would the LifeGuard.

And experience taught him, he could not get out of any of it.

9th August 1945 Nagasaki. A Place Where War Can Take You.

WAR & CONFLICT BOOKERA:  WORLD WAR II/WAR IN THE EAST/JAPAN

The remains of a temple overlooking Nagasaki August 1945

There was a time in the USA when if anyone outside of the various Strategic Command units had heard of Nagasaki it would have probably been in relation to a novelty jazz song written by Warren & Dixon in 1928 (and still performed):

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nagasaki_(song)

After the 9th August 1945 the city would be forever linked to Hiroshima. You may look around the internet and get the impression it has been fated to be an add-on to Hiroshima. A kind of tragic PS when discussing the only (thus far) use of nuclear weapons in a strategic setting. In fact if it had not been for the weather that day Kokura would have been the target. Thus there is always unpredictability in War.

The discussion on the use of the two atomic weapons still generates passion and acrimony. In a grim parallel, debate on the topic carries its own fall out. This comes from all angles and direction, from the Humanitarian to the downright shallow racism of Only America Could Be So Evil. Even some of the historical accounts of the military actions take on a certain subtext of attacking the opponents for being naïve, declaring there was no other option. Actually, there are always other options. Options always come with qualifiers, and your acceptance of those depends on the inherent complexity of your own personal views.

Now does that read as if I am dodging the question? Am I trying to skirt around matters and maybe make a subtle play for a certain point of view? Well, I might be.

Except the intention of this post is to discuss not just one war and to argue the merits or motivations of one side or another in that war. This post is about- The Logic of War.

And there it is. The Logic of War. Yes WAR has its own logic. Not one which works in civilian life and those who try and meld its mores, norms and conventions onto business practices are being very foolish indeed because they are missing out those aspects polite society does not care to dwell on.

The Killing. The plain simple fact that in the overwhelming number of wars the basic intention is to destroy the will or capability of the opposition and that is done by killing. Either in battle, raids on civilians and destruction of capacity, which involves famine by the way and more death. That however is not the first step.

The first step is the strong urge to deliver violence to another. This arises from a myriad of reasons. Acquisition of resources. Differences which come in various guises and have boiled over. Some twisted idea of a destiny. Suspicion of the other and be the first to get the punch in. And all sorts of combinations. The response is normally a violent one. One side might win the first few rounds, but WAR is a long business, even if structurally one side is overwhelmed resistance will continue at lower levels. Even Peace Treaties are but truces, sometimes between once- allies. Often though one side rides the initial blows and begins to dig in deep. By then The Logic of War has taken over, instincts for Survival, of Hatred,  of Anger and Determination take hold. The professionals trained for so long naturally have reacted as trained, the part of the population urging war, come forth, others will get swept up in this, some may try and flee, but WAR will seek them out either physically or mentally or spiritually. Death and ruination are powerful emotional actors and WAR has a long reach and it tracks folk down the years.

Amongst its myriad of horrors come the elements of locations, resources and level of industrialisation, herein lie some of the most frightening of factors which will be brought to the field.

If the war is one in which the nations are not neighbours, then to proceed it is likely they will both have strong industrial bases. Thus, the capacities and need to degrade and destroy are ramped up exponentially, as The Logic of War is now in full flow replacing anything which the ordinary day to day societies consider acceptable. After all, the nations say; this is for survival and at this stage to be effective means take to on bigger degrees of scale. Under the remorseless logic, the battlefield expands beyond the places where soldiers fight and draws in the civilians be they producers or within the community of the producers. This is actually nothing new, but the scale to cause harm and the area in which harm can be caused has increased. The Logic dictates The Whole Population are potential targets.

Depending on the structure of the society of one or more of the combatants for wars will include allies (willing or otherwise) there may well be concerns raised about the harm being meted out to the civilians. It may surprise some to read these will be raised by elements of the military, particularly those concerned with the politics of the war and the possible degradation of the moral of the fighting units. These concerns are more likely in nations with a democratic structure; although it should be born in mind that a mistake made by all totalitarian states is that democracies are weak and will fold, this they learn is an error, democracies will be fearfully ruthless in defence of their structures.

As the war moves along, the degradation of the enemy takes on a greater and greater priority, spurred on by the wish to end the war before resources are used up. By now the maintenance of The Will to continue has become a paramount. In democracies the administration is forever looking over its shoulder, in totalitarian states the imposition of The Will is ruthless, even should defeat be obvious. The larger the states at war the greater the pressures across the entire spectrum, military, economic, structural, social and so forth. The Logic again dictates Focus. The Focus is to break The Will of the other side. This will be measured not just on the traditionally measured battlefields. The nations are the battlefields; physically, mental and spiritual.

These therefore are all the dread factors of WAR laid out bare. This is what is entered into. Within the Industrialised Nations since WWII Wars have been in the form of military actions born out of politics and policy, the survival of the nations only take the form of National Prestige. This is a fragile factor. The physical survival of the nation is not at stake. The full potentials have not been called upon or tested. The Blood and Treasure costs may well have been high, but failure is an acceptable risk because the Nation itself is not the issue, only its domestic politics.

The full capacity has not been released.

When that is, one or other parties will suffer fearfully. Because the war will be prosecuted to the fullest extent. By both sides one for victory, one for survival, the roles shifting and changing. WAR is also feeding on the brutal excesses of one side or another against vulnerable non-combatant civilian in unstrategic areas. Those taking part are made to represent the entire population from whence they came. Everyone is demonised. Vengeance and retribution are required by the other side to be meted out.

And very, very few will think they have the right to stop that.

That is how it is.

To return to the opening. Today is the anniversary of the second use of a nuclear weapon. Upon this period this issue much has been written. Two works are leaving impression upon me, because they cover the subject matter of this The Logic of War

The Prompt and Utter Destruction by J Samuel Walker – This deals essentially with the decision making processes in Washington and the issues facing Truman. I respect this book because it unsettle my previous held belief that use of the Nuclear Weapon was inevitable. Remember I mentioned ‘Options’, yes there could have been ‘Options’.

140 Days to Hiroshima by David Dean Barrett  – Actually goes beyond the first use of Nuclear Weaponry and into Nagasaki’s bombing and the events following. I admit have not yet finished this book those have reached the post bombing section. It’s themes also cover the Japanese Government’s processes and insights into the rationales of the component groups within. It also deals in chilling detail with the discussions on both sides for preparation for conventional warfare. Those ‘Options’ .And opens with the description of the  horrific mass firebombing of Tokyo on the night of the 9-10 March 1945.

These books offer views into the fearful processes which are birthed in The Logic of War. They are to be read with caution because to repeat an earlier point, the ordinary patterns and conventions of Civilian Life as you know are discarded. Frankly they have taken a second place, if considered at all.

You could go deeper into the topic and chose to read from the vast number of works on WWII or simply the wars Japan felt it necessary to start, a large collection in itself. Although some would say you have to go further back into the 19th century to get a better grasp.

One simple summary. A nation felt inclined to use War as a policy. Other nations reacted. From there the whole remorseless business began. The Avalanche if you like, a force of Nature which has a small beginning but then is unstoppable. But a War is stoppable you say? I would say, no. Not when that path has been chosen. Avoidable, yes. Wars are always avoidable. The art of the task is to ensure one side does not feel there is any point in using WAR.

And the seed? The seed is The Extreme. Beware The Extreme. It is not to be dismissed, not laughed at like in Doctor Strangelove. Walk wary of The Extreme. It leads to ruins, where bodies lie, ripped, torn, burnt, twisted, where the survivors sit screaming, dying, some walking as they do.

What is done is done. The evidence of where The Logic of War drags us. There is enough of it. The Extreme though would have you believe there is always a simple and glorious solution. The Extreme always lies. Therein lie The Crimes.

In comparison WAR is a simple being. What You See Is What You Get.

An Upside To Grim Songs – House At Pooneil Corner

Jefferson_Airplane

Forewarning: This is one of those long post that might appear to be meandering. Some posts need the elements of stories to get to the point. This is one.

Yes, there they are, Jefferson Airplane, one of the bands which are automatically associated with the many often inaccurately named time from 1965 to its stuttering end 1969 – 1970.

Like many bands of that era, the more you read about them, even filtering out the hyperbole, the less you feel affection for them as individuals or a group of folk, even if the music does stick.  My own opinion was they were played out by 1969 and the music was dying…Marty Balin originator of the band was to leave, disillusioned with those politics of the band…

So having set the mood, let’s take a look at one particular but not universally known song produced when they were still fresh.

After the great success of Surrealistic Pillow, second album and first to feature their ionic line up, there would eventually arrive, arguably, their most accomplished and fourth album: Crown of Creation. Although with still some folky-rock roots, this was a more of a venture into pure rock  Amongst noteworthy several songs was the unforgivingly grim and oddly titled House at Pooneil Corners. Paul Kanter vocals, guitar and lyrics was particularly influenced by books in his song writing. Winnie The Pooh by A.A Milne had captured the imaginations of several bands’ song writers, its innocence and quiet philosophies I suppose. On the previous drug-drenched album After Bathing At Baxters   an upbeat cheery(ish) song had been ‘The Ballad of You, Me and Pooneil . ‘Pooneil’ was, so the story goes, a made up word mixing ‘Pooh’ as in ‘Winnie’ with ‘Neil’ as in ‘Fred Neil’ a talented and incisive song writer whose work members of the band respected. Just exactly how, when and for what purpose this word came into being is lost to many questionable memories and Time, and various legends. (If you know any feel free to post them in the Comments)

And onto the song…

Lyrics
 
You and me, we keep walking around and we seeAll the bullshit around usYou try and keep your mind on whats going downCant help but see the rhinoceros* around us
 
Then you wonder what you can beAnd you do what you can to get far and highAnd you know I’m still gonna need you aroundAnd you know I’m still gonna need you around
 
You say it’s healing, but nobody’s feeling itSomebody’s dealing, somebody’s stealingAnd you say you don’t see and you don’tYou say you won’t know and you won’t, when it comes
 
Everything someday will be gone except silenceThe earth will be quiet againSeas from clouds will wash off the ashes of violenceLeft as the memory of menThere will be no survivors, my friend
 
Suddenly everyone will look surprisedStars spinning wheels in the skiesSun is scrambled in their eyesAnd circles like a vulture
 
Someone stood at the window and cried one tearI thought that would stop the war, but someone is killing meThats the last time I do think anymoreJelly and juice and bubbles, bubbles on the floor
 
Castles on cliffs vanishedJust like heaps of rubbishSeen from the stars hour upon hourAs splinters, dust, and black flowers**
 
From here to heaven is a scarDead center, deep as deathAll the idiots have leftThe idiots have left
 
Cows are almost cooingTurtle doves are mooingWhich is why a Pooh is poohingIn the sunSun
 
* references a play by Eugene Ionesco— https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rhinoceros_(play)
** Could also be ‘powder’- Opinion is divided.
 
Mostly written by Balin the lyrics reflect the fear common in the 1950s and 60s of a Nuclear War. I would also suggest their is something of a sub-text of general disillusionment with the times Balin was living through, Flower Power and such was withering into frantic thrashing about for the ‘latest thing’, money grabbing and ego nurturing; an Old Story. Woodstock was a last gasp. This song was a reflection of the Times as they were. On YouTube you can find a couple of live version including a magnificent rooftop performance which predates the Beatles. For clarity’s sake of listening I include here the album version
 
 
 
 

Some of the songs from that time are stuck in their era, such as Country Joe & The Fish’s Feel-Like-I’m-Fixing-To Die-  that could only be 1960s  and about Vietnam – that aside we don’t give wars the lightly ironic treatment anymore. This song, dealing with a nightmare vision of what could happen and the hopelessness of being unable to stop it is transferable into other times and situations. Thus examining the lyrics and shifting the symbolism of the words or phrases you can adapt it to the political upheavals which are currently going on, and that feeling of helplessness at being unable to stop the tsunami of reactionary intolerance and mis-information crashing out of the media into your personal space. I cite the reference to Ionesco’s play based on his own experiences in his native Romania and the rise in the 1930s of the Right-Wing extremist Iron Guard. Does that parallel unsettle you in 2020s USA? I would suggest set against the back drop of a relentless signature Jefferson Airplane sound, and interlacing of solo and harmonies of Balin and Slick (two exceptional vocalists of that era) this song is a very powerful anthem of ‘Warning’.

Now there is the word I wanted to weave in ‘Warning’ and the power of songs to initiate a theme of the listener’s mood. There is quite a bit of gloom, despair and fatalism around these days, the forces of reaction and intolerance seeming rampant, and in addition there seems no way to truly halt the environmental damages  Warnings in themselves. One quality which a Warning has at its most basic level right across Nature is for the creature to react or be ready to react ‘Flight / Fight’. Placing this in the political equation of the USA you could understand some wishing to ‘up-sticks’ and move to another country (Warning folks: The pastures on the horizon may seem greener, but when you get up close, there’s hard-scrabble there too). The other reaction- Fight- being along the lines of ‘The Hell You Will!’ to whatever the threat might be. Warnings therefore carry their own potency and energy. You can thus use such a song to channel up your own angers, frustrations and fears into constructive ways to strive to halt that which you fear. Heck, as long as you don’t try and go commercial with it, you can even alter a word or a phrase here and there; that’s been a common evolution of many a folk song down the centuries, in recent centuries also alive and thriving in Blue and Country.

So you take a song, or a poem, or a speech and you work with it, to revitalise. ‘House At Pooneil Corners’ may not appeal to you (‘Sorry just not my scene / bag, man’-as we used to say back then), but the principal, I have to revert just one more time to 1960’s speak ‘You dig?’